Scars
by LSgrimm91
Summary: How could Sam tell him that they made her feel less beautiful? That she was afraid she would be less attractive to him?


**Disclaimer: not mine... doesn't stop the flow of ideas though.**

**A/note: This came to me whilst reading 'Consequences of being touched' (the UST in that story is pure torture BTW!) and got me thinking. So enjoy a little bit of Sam and Jack love. Set somewhere in season eight, but post Pete and Kerry. Or during, but they don't really feature in this. *sticks fingers in ear and sings loudly* Enjoy!**

~ **Scars** ~

Sam sat on a gurney in the infirmary, her khaki BDU shirt sitting in her lap like a cat and a nurse trying to stitch up the deep gash on the back of her left shoulder. She sighed and hunched forwards, shaking her head slightly. Another scar. Another clumsy swipe of white paint across a once beautiful portrait. Another mark that she would have to cover up. Sam twitched when the nurse pulled at the sutures. Her body tensed when she heard a familiar voice announce itself as her Commanding Officer entered the infirmary.

"Alright Carter, what have you done to yourself now?" Jack asked as he strolled in. Never mind the fact that Sam was sitting with only her sports bra to cover the top half of her body. Jack gave her a once over but didn't seem fazed at her state of undress. Why would he? He liked her. This much Sam knew.

"Would you believe me if I said I tripped?" She asked, unfurling her shirt and covering the front of her body with it.

"Probably not." Jack shook his head dismissively, casually pushing his hands into his pockets. "It's alright. Daniel told me on the way down."

SG-1 had gated to one of Anubis's remaining strongholds. During their escape, an explosion near the gate had blasted sharp rocks in the air. One had caught Sam in the shoulder. It could have been worse; it could have hit her in the neck or the face. She just couldn't believe it made it through the tactical vest and her shirt.

"Try and keep as much air on it as you can Ma'am." The nurse advised Sam as she picked up her tray and disappeared beyond the half-pulled curtain. Sam made the mistake of sighing again, drawing Jack's curious concern.

"What?" Jack frowned, adjusting his stance in front of her. Sam looked up to her General and knew she could not lie to this man. Withhold information? Sure. Lie? Never.

"You know, Sir, when I started here, I only had six visible scars. Now I have too many to count." Sam shifted, suddenly uncomfortable and pulled her shirt tighter against her body. Jack frowned and canted his head to one side, leaning forwards and looking at the newly stitched wound on her shoulder. He straightened up again.

"And? You're still here. That's the important thing."

"I hate them. They look horrible. I can't..." she dropped her head a little, her gaze falling to his chest. Jack bobbed down until his eyes came into her view. She grinned and he stood back up. His knees wouldn't have liked that.

"You can't...?" He asked, demanding an answer in his non-demanding way. Underneath her shirt, Sam's hands clenched together in her lap. She lifted the shirt and was grateful to Jack for keeping his eyes on hers.

"I can't bring myself to look at them some days. I feel damaged..." She admitted. How could she tell him that they made her feel less beautiful? That she was afraid she would be less attractive to him?

"You mind if I speak off the record here, Carter?" He asked out of courtesy. Sam shrugged and gave him a brief nod.

"If you think they make you any less of a woman, I do remember you walking into a briefing room with a big '_I am a woman, you better stay out of my way' _sign on your forehead." He added with a smirk. Sam laughed openly and shook her head. She was so young then. So determined to do well.

"Oh god... let's not go there, Sir!" She chuckled ashamedly. When she looked back to Jack, his eyes were – rather obviously – looking over her exposed body.

"Well, I may be biased, but you're a damn beautiful woman Carter... especially with all those wounds." Sam was taken aback at the unguarded compliment, but Jack continued. "They tell your story. Like this one..." Jack poked his own shoulder.

"I remember a very young captain who stayed by my side when I was turned into a wall ornament. She held my hand so I knew everything was going to be alright. And it was." Jack's hand dropped back to his side. His eyes drifted over her body.

"Between you and me..." He said quietly, leaning his head in a little closer. "..._your_ scars, remind me how brave you are. How resilient and strong you are. I am in awe of them. Don't hide them." Jack shook his head. It was an ardent request, not so much of an order. Sam gave him a meaningful smile.

"Thanks Sir." She relented. She could always count on her General. It was comforting that he thought highly of her battle worn body.

"Think nothing of it." Jack dismissed. As awkwardness threatened to set in, Jack simply patted her knee and turned to leave.

"Get better Carter..." he said with one last glance over his shoulder. Sam smiled in appreciation and watched him disappear.

"Yes Sir."

~ SJ ~

**Another short and random diddy, brought to you buy caffeine central. Zara is sending me into a relapse. Reviews mot welcome, as always.**


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